


Her Scandal

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Series: The Least of Your Worries [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gossip, Phryne and Jack aren't here, The return of Dame Salome, but they are the subject of speculation, ladies who lunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: Ladies who lunch discuss Miss Fisher and her scandalous antipodean suitor.This is completely connected to my storyThe Most Common Elementwherein Dame Salome says to Jack, "You must be 'Her Scandal"





	Her Scandal

“I thought your daughter was joining us for luncheon, Margaret?” Lady Redesdale sniffed at her watercress salad, “I rather looked forward to speaking with her. I think she might be a good match for my Tom.” 

Margaret Fisher’s fingernails dug into her palms. She should have known better than to dream the subject of her daughter could remain off the table. She smiled tightly at the Lady Redesdale.  

Before she could speak, a gruff voice that was only identifiable as female by long experience cut in, “I was looking forward to hearing about her flight! That was something. That took balls.” 

The other women at the table turned horrified to the tiny woman with white bobbed hair, thick glasses, and brilliant red lipstick. This little white-haired creature seemed like a caricature. A sparkling red headband capped her snowy hair, and a bright purple marabou created a tight collar. The dress under the purple marabou collar hinted at lemon.  She was the oldest at the table by quite a few years. She was the richest as well, though not the one with the fanciest title.  

“I think she’s too old for Tom,” the one person who wasn’t horrified by the little lady with the white hair, the too-red lips, and alarming fashion sense, was a stunning blonde, much younger than the rest of the crowd. “And I’ve already published the ‘flying from the antipodes’ story, Dame Salome. I need fresh dirt. So, where is Phryne, anyway? We were supposed to be having dinner next week and she begged off!” 

Margaret turned to the blonde, “I’m sorry to hear that Mrs. Graham. I’m sure she meant no disrespect or… it’s just she. She’s… well, she’s flown off again. To Egypt, she said. She should be back in a few weeks.” 

“Egypt? What on earth is she doing in Egypt?” Lady Redesdale looked down her nose at Margaret. For not the first time in the last fifteen years, Margaret silently questioned why she felt the need to be a part of this society. She’d never needed them before. When she was young and in love— carefree. Before the war turned her world upside down. Before Janey left her heartbroken. Now she just kept trying to fill the emptiness with more and more… things. Baubles. Trinkets. Things that don’t matter. It never seemed to fill the void. 

“She said she was going to meet a friend,” Margaret tried to keep it simple. 

“Meet a friend? She blew off dinner with Sheilah Graham to meet a friend? What kind of friend?” Margaret dug more deeply into her palms. This had been the wrong thing to say. 

“A very good friend, I’d imagine,” Dame Salome supplied helpfully.  

Margaret nodded, “Yes, I believe so. Henry said he’s a very respectable man.” 

Lady Redesdale drew up archly, “I did not realize Miss Fisher was betrothed. I would never have suggested my Tom had I known. You really should announce these things, Margaret. It’s very bad form to keep society out of the loop.” 

“No… no… It’s not like that. Or maybe… I don’t know what it is. I don’t think they were involved in Australia, but he’s come after her…” Margaret didn’t know why she kept talking about this. For all of their many, many faults, these women were… she supposed… her friends. It was bothering her that Phryne wasn’t herself. She’d been home for over half a year and she was a different woman these days. Wistful.  

“You don’t come halfway around the world for someone if you’re not involved with them. Is he rich?” Sheilah demanded, “He must be to be able to afford such a grand gesture.” 

“Phryne won’t talk about him, but Henry says he isn’t. He’s a police officer,” Margaret was trying to get out of this conversation, but she couldn’t find the exit, “Phryne’s been… detecting.” 

“Detecting?” Lady Redesdale sneered, “Detecting what?” 

“Oh, you haven’t heard this Lady Redesdale?” Sheilah giggled, “Miss Fisher thinks she’s a regular lady Sherlock Holmes. She solves mysteries. It’s really quite droll. Say… this isn’t the divorced policeman she’s been linked to in the Australian papers is it? Oh, how delicious!” 

“Oh my, no, Mrs. Graham… I don’t know anything about all that, I don’t know who this man is other than Henry calls him ‘Jack’. Please… there’s nothing to report on,” Margaret realized that this was getting out of control.

“A policeman! And  _ DIVORCED!  _ How unfortunate, Margaret. Tsk,” Lady Redesdale clucked her tongue at the news. “Well, at least the divorce happened in the antipodes and he’s a nobody… shouldn't be as much of a problem.”

“Are you kidding, Lady R? This is fantastic! There’s nothing like a juicy scandal to sell newspapers. Phryne marrying? And a  _ divorced _ commoner at that? It’s delicious.” Sheilah was positively vibrating with excitement. She jumped up from her chair, “Ladies, it’s been an absolute delight! Margaret… congratulations!”

Margaret Fisher stared after the columnist in horror. What had she done?

“Don’t worry, Margaret,” Dame Salome patted her hand, “As dear Oscar used to say, ‘the only thing worse than being talked about is  _ not _ being talked about.”


End file.
